As his sister demonstrated her exceptional firebending skills for their grandfather, he kept his face blank. He stared into the flames surrounding the throne, and something occurred to him.

He couldn't remember his old name.

A weird thing to realize out of nowhere, but it still brought him up short.

It wasn't exactly shocking, just… Sobering.

It was another memory, in a long series of memories, that he had lost over the years. Every day he had a harder time convincing himself that this was all fake. That all of this was a construct. An illusion. Some sort of trick. Fake. Fake. Fake. All of it. To this day he would still sometimes take a second to look around and deny everything in his head. But now he did it out of habit, rather than out of belief. Many of his old memories were gone, but that remained.

It was no longer a concrete statement that his life was a lie. Merely a reminder that he used to believe it.

He still remembered some things. He used to play video games, read web serials, binge series, partake in fandom, and he had been in the process of learning piano. The broad strokes were there, but all the detail was gone.

Sorta like a half-baked biography.

Writing it down helped for a while. But then he was scolded for wasting paper to write gibberish. Then he tried hiding it, and he was scolded again.

It was hard to keep secrets in a palace.

Yes, yes. Being royalty was so hard. Quick, someone come and play a teeny tiny violin for him while he sobbed into his piles of money and privilege.

He rolled his eyes in response to the criticism no one had vocalized.

Arguing with himself.

One of the stubborn holdovers from his past life.

And he was fairly confident that it was a past life, instead of some delusion or evidence of his insanity. There was enough precedent for it, although his circumstances were still abnormal. Avatars reincarnated and shared memories with their past selves, or something like that, though he was most certainly not the Avatar.

If anyone ever asked, he would wave his hand vaguely and blame the spirit world, and they would nod like they knew what he was talking about. Mutually assured stupidity, he called it.

Wouldn't that be a fun conversation? He asked himself, in his mind, sarcastically.

No. No, it would not.

His old life, his old memories. His old name, even. Much as it pained him to forget, most of it was just a lot of nonsense that wasn't that relevant or helpful. He had no preordained purpose or special abilities that came with the memories. They made him more complicated, and not in a fun way. Annoying and confusing complexity, but not fun.

"Iroza."

He blinked.

Iroza. That was the name he responded to now. The only one he had left.

He looked over at his father, who seemed slightly more annoyed than usual. A bit concerning. He didn't typically zone out so easily during visits to the throne room. But then he had just gone through a rather emotional moment. Kind of.

"Yes, father?" he replied, his tone measured and polite.

The man's golden eyes narrowed at him. Again, slightly more than usual. Ah, so he had missed a command. Oh well. He wouldn't lose sleep over it.

"Show your grandfather the fruits of your labor," he said, and the words were harsh despite their low volume and kindly tone. His lips twitched upwards. "Unless you do not feel as prepared as your sister?"

It was a loaded question, and he wouldn't take the bait.

He gave a respectful nod and rose to his feet. "By your will, father."

Stepping forward into the center of attention, he bowed deeply to his grandfather. He felt his father's gaze following him, and he ignored it. Then he fell into a familiar stance and readied himself for the firebending routine that had been drilled into him.

Like he was in some beauty pageant.

He wasn't nearly the prodigy his sister was, much as he tried. His flames were much smaller, and his firebending energy was lethargic. Much like him. But doing magic was pretty cool, something that wasn't possible in his past life, so he was dedicated to getting better and too stubborn to settle for less. It wasn't enough to bridge the gap. But it was enough for Iroza.

Not enough for his father, of course. It would never be.

As the man liked to say; he was dedicated, but she was talented.

The man loved trying to hurt him. Delighted in it. Turning his children against each other was a treasured pastime of his. That was why his sister had been called to demonstrate first, despite her superior skill. Their demonstrations served two purposes. To show off, and to remind Iroza that he was weaker. No moment of glory for going first and garnering at least a bit of praise. Best to snuff out any self-worth straight away.

He took a breath and pulled.

As his inner flame surged to answer his call, he suppressed a smile.

It was one of his best-kept secrets from his father; that Iroza wasn't driven by his competitive nature.

Firebending was just fucking awesome.

He loved the flow of energy coursing through his body. He kicked through the air and loosed some of it from his foot, painting an arc of flame around him. He was less concerned with the katas. He went through them efficiently and deliberately, but without the fierce aggression of Azula. Even he could tell that his movements were more wooden. The kicks and punches, jumps and twirls, were all so much filler to him. Something he had to do, because he had practiced.

Because it was expected of him.

What he truly craved was the rush. Fire was the element of power and energy and he relished the feeling of embracing it, and letting it embrace him. He took his time, without appearing to, and savored it.

For a moment there was only him and the blaze he surrounded himself with.

As he finished, landing into a crouch, he dipped his head towards the floor and smothered his emotions before he could grin or laugh.

Not bad, he decided.

Pretty okay, even.

Azula would criticize him once they were alone, and he would ignore the parts that weren't helpful. But he was confident he had done fine. It was important for him to internalize that. His sister was like a shark. If she smelled weakness, she wouldn't hesitate to go after it.

It was adorable when it wasn't so unnerving.

He ignored his grandfather's token praise, then humbly thanked him for it.

With another bow, he turned and walked back to his family.

His father nodded, not deigning to praise him with words, which was as much approval as he could expect from the man. His mother smiled and, as usual, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Azula tilted her head and smirked, and it was definitely more adorable than she intended. Zuko…

Zuko scowled, and he too looked more adorable than he intended.

As he sat back down he shot a quick glance at Azula. She had probably been whispering to Zuko after her excellent performance. Not that he minded. But it was slightly grating for her to distract from his not excellent, but still pretty okay performance.

After a few seconds, he decided he didn't care.

As his father and grandfather talked, he looked over at Zuko. His older brother was still scowling and refusing to look at him, or Azula. Especially Azula. The boy clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

Iroza felt a strong sense of foreboding.

Leaping to his feet, Zuko stomped forward to go and prove that he could be a ninja too. Or something. He shuddered.

Ah, yes. Secondhand embarrassment.

Another holdover from his past life.

Wonderful.

Iroza didn't laugh when his brother fell on his ass. He didn't frown when their father glared and said something offhand and cutting. He didn't feel relieved when their mother rushed forward to embrace her oldest son with coos and soft words of encouragement.

He did roll his eyes at his brother's antics because he should honestly know better by now. He just couldn't summon any sympathy.

He should be able to, and he used to have it in him, but he couldn't.

He should feel bad, but he didn't.

Azula leaned over and whispered, "What a crybaby."

Humming noncommittally, he agreed without really seeming to and knew that she could tell.

They were twins, after all.


Whenever they trained, his father had many things to say. Nothing positive. Not for him.

"Breathe deeper. Your fire must extend further, past this point. Aim for it."

"Your form is weak. There is no force, no follow-through."

"Have you been skipping your exercises? You should have more muscle by now. Perhaps your body is just weaker."

"Do not smile. Happiness does not fuel your flame. It is rage, and it is passion."

"You try to get around it, but you are not enraged. We shall remedy this."

"Hatred is weaker, but still a passable substitute. Yet it seems you cannot even summon that much. Disappointing."

"More."

"Move faster."

"Your stance is getting worse. Sloppier."

"Look at her flames. You can already see the tint of blue in them. I doubt you will ever come close to emulating that."

"You are twins, but it seems you are the youngest in more ways than one."

"Again."

"Your flame is pathetic."

"Do it again."

"I shall no longer be personally seeing to your instruction. Azula simply has a much higher potential for growth. You will continue to train with Zuko, in the basics."

As always, at the end he just nodded.

His face was blank, and his emotions were smothered. He suppressed his passion, his rage, and his hatred. It wasn't an easy decision for him to make. He already couldn't summon the kind of power Azula could. His inner flame wasn't the inferno that hers was. Based on everything he was taught, suppressing his passion was detrimental to his bending potential. And he could feel it. But he also couldn't give in to his father. Wouldn't give in. He refused.

And maybe that was why the man hated him.

Because he never gave him the pleasure of bending to his will, or rising to his taunts. Iroza would never be his father's son, not like Azula or Zuko. Much as he wished it was different, his siblings were his father's servants. His tools, to be used and possessed and driven by their desire to please him.

Ozai looked down at his youngest child, his brother's namesake, and knew that the boy felt nothing for him.

Nothing at all.


"Iroza. I thought I'd find you here. How can you be so predictable?"

Laying flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the roof, he opened his eyes and squinted. Azula smirked down at him.

"You're blocking the sun," he said blandly, instead of answering.

She scoffed.

"Are you still upset about what I said to Zuzu? You are, aren't you?"

He didn't ask which time she was referring to. She likely knew it was a buildup, rather than one specific instance of her teasing.

He reached up and laced his hands behind his head. "I'm not upset. Look at how not upset I am. No glaring, frowning, or yelling. I'm totally relaxed."

With a scowl she sat down next to him, glaring out at the palace.

"I only said it because I meant it," she said harshly, shooting a glance at him as he looked up at the sky. "He's pathetic, and father knows it. He should know it too."

He yawned. "But that's not why you said it."

"And? Does it matter why?"

"Not really," he said, turning his head to look at her. She looked away. "It was kinda mean, though."

She snorted. "As if you care."

He fell silent at that. Thoughtful silence. Not brooding silence.

"Yeah," he said after a bit, "I guess I don't."

"Then why pretend to?" she asked, sounding truly confused and frustrated because of it. She never reacted well when she couldn't easily figure him out. Because they were alike. "You're not some kindhearted fool, like Zuzu or our esteemed uncle, and that's a good thing."

He knew she was saying that to herself, as much as to him. And it was true.

Why did he pretend to care? Part of him that remained from his past life, maybe. Another fragment he stubbornly clung to, even if it didn't really feel like it fit him anymore.

With a sigh, he brought his legs up and rolled into a sitting position.

"Being compassionate used to come easier to me," he admitted, and the next part was harder to say than he'd like. "Now… All I can do is smile, and pretend."

Azula didn't respond at first.

Then she forced an empty laugh out and bumped shoulders with him. "Father always says compassion is a weakness. It's only natural that you and I should be rid of it."

He snorted. "Because you're not weak."

"Neither of us are weak," she said firmly, and he took comfort in how certain she sounded. She stood with a sigh, pulling him up with her. "If you just stop holding back and commit yourself more, father will see it too. Now come on. Mother sent me to come and bring you to the gardens. She wants us to socialize again."

Ah, yes. Their mother's ongoing quest to find friends for her children by setting up playdates with the sons and daughters of nobility.

"And you bring this up now?"

"Oh, hush. You were brooding, so I decided to talk to you first."

He snickered into his fist. "Aw, Zula. I didn't know you cared. Such heartwarming compassion from my loving older sister."

"Keep talking, you'll see just how much I care."

He kept talking.

Their mother was very cross with them when they showed up half an hour late with their clothes singed.


They did eventually end up finding some kids to be friends with.

Well, Azula found some friends easily enough. Zuko tried, bless his stubborn little heart, and awkwardly blushed and blundered his way through all of three and a half conversations before retreating to the corner in shame. A valiant attempt and he was sure to tell the sulking boy as much. As for Iroza, he just kind of stood there staring into space, scaring away all interlopers, until it was finally over.

Wallflower powers, activate.

As it turned out, Azula's new friends were just two existing friends she had already met at the academy. A really bubbly girl with loads of siblings who liked cartwheels and sweets, and a really not-bubbly girl without any siblings who liked knives and death. Iroza stroked his chin and dubbed them frowny and smiley, respectively. Nobody laughed.

He thought it was hilarious.

Zuko called it out as blatant cheating once everyone had left, which of course it was, but no one cared. It wasn't like it was a competition.

"It's not like it was a competition," he said as much to his brother.

Azula smirked. "But you definitely lost, Zuzu."

"Because you cheated," Zuko ground out.

With a dramatic sigh, he threw an arm around his brother's shoulder. Or tried to, anyway. Zuko had two years on him, and Iroza already wasn't as tall as he'd like. He blamed Azula for being his twin. Their shared genetics were sabotaging him. "Don't worry, Zuko. I'll be your friend."

"That doesn't count," he said moodily, shoving his arm away.

Recoiling as if struck and clutching his chest, Iroza gasped and made his voice waver. "How could you say that? I thought we had a special bond. A bond of brotherhood."

Zuko turned away and crossed his arms, not quite managing to hide the smile Iroza had coaxed out of him.

"You can't hide the truth from me now," he growled. Lunging forward with a ferocious battle cry, he attacked and exploited Zuko's many weak points with ruthless efficiency. He didn't let up until the older boy was curled up on the ground, breathless from laughter. "I will never forget your betrayal, brother."

"You're unusually playful today," Azula said, sounding slightly suspicious and a little jealous.

"I suppose I am, Zula."

He turned to her with a gleam in his eyes that had her take a cautious step back, raising a finger to warn him off.

"Don't even thi—"

Her words were cut off by her own indignant cry as Iroza charged forward and threw her over his shoulder.

"Let me down, now!" she shrieked, glaring over at Zuko as he climbed to his feet. "Zuko, tell him to let me go!"

Iroza laughed his best evil laugh.

"No one will stand in my way," he roared. Whirling around in circles to disorient Azula, he sprinted around the garden while she yelled and pounded her fists into his back and Zuko eagerly gave chase. "Not even you, Zuzu! All will perish before the all-consuming might of my playful whims!"

Their mother stood far off in the shaded walkway, smiling fondly.

Iroza decided to be nice and not notice her.

Let her enjoy it, while it lasted.


And of course, it didn't last.

It never could have lasted. Iroza's memories were lacking in foreknowledge, and he was no fortune peddler, but war was war. And war never… Became different. He knew enough to know that nothing good of his would last. He struggled, smiled, and pretended. He tried to be a brother, a son, a nephew, and a cousin. All of them, and he wasn't particularly good at any of them.

He had more luck as a sibling, but that was also where he tried hardest. They were kids, with the capacity to be decent people, being raised in a toxic environment. Just a shitty situation. He could relate, and so he could connect with them easier.

Not that it mattered.

Honestly, it sometimes felt like the universe was conspiring to fuck over his family in particular. Specific parts of his family, that is. Parts that weren't his father.

A lot of things just started going wrong all at once.

His cousin died before the walls of Ba Sing Se. Then his uncle abandoned the siege in his grief, returning home a failure. His father tried to wiggle his way into being heir, which really didn't work out until it did. His grandfather unceremoniously kicked the bucket, his mother disappeared without explanation or investigation, and his father ascended to the throne. All hail Fire Lord Ozai, first of his name, protector of the realm, yada yada.

This was all within a week or two.

What a hot streak of garbage.

Life was so different after that. Life under Fire Lord Ozai was much worse than life under Prince Ozai. If that was even possible.

Smiles and easy jokes between siblings were harder to come by.

Azula was all smirks and quips at other people's expense. That didn't change. But it was crueler. Pointed. Her quips turned into jabs, feeling out weaknesses in others. Exploiting them. She always looked to their father as an example. She wanted to be like him. And for her, that meant every conversation was a contest. Every genuine smile was something to be mocked.

They were still twins. He understood her. Sometimes he wished he didn't understand her quite as well as he did.

Zuko was better. The best of them, as he always was. But he retreated from Azula because of who Azula started to turn into. And he retreated from Iroza for much the same reason. It was disappointing. But it was also understandable.

Azula was an ideal daughter.

Iroza was the mockery of an ideal son.

Almost satirical, if he ever put any heart into his acting.

Zuko recoiled from Ozai's vision of a model son, and Iroza refused to hold that against him.

Their father wanted a son like Ozai was to his father.

Iroza had no lost love for his grandfather. To him, the man was just a stern face sitting on a throne. Possessing great power and demanding respect, but he never registered the man as an actual person. Even when they met in less formal circumstances. He was just a face. A cardboard cutout of a man.

Ozai wasn't just a face. Iroza tried to treat him as just a face, but the man was just too present.

Even when he started training Azula one on one, his subtle taunts and condemnations still found a way to reach him. Iroza was never unaware of how little the man thought of him. He was always around. For better or worse.

Worse. It was worse.

But it wasn't nearly as bad as it was for Zuko. Zuko was a good kid, his mother's son in more ways than one, and Ozai despised that fact. Iroza at least never gave the man an overt reason to punish him. All of his rebellion was in mannerisms and hollow respect. He went through the same motions Azula did, but they were just motions. And anyone could tell if they looked hard enough.

Zuko wasn't as subtle in his rebellion, since he was a good kid and all that, but it was even worse. He didn't know what kind of man his father was. So how could he know to be subtle?

Zuko wanted his father's love and respect. But Ozai only cared about himself.

He was a narcissist like that.

He valued Azula, true enough. But only insofar as her talent and ruthlessness made him look like a competent father, teacher, and leader. Even Iroza, for all that there was nothing like love or respect between them, was afforded special training and preferential treatment. Over Zuko, that is. Because he was competent, ruthless, and had nothing but good things to say about the war and his father.

The difference was in how genuine it was. Azula was genuine. Iroza was not. Zuko was genuine, but it was in all the wrong ways.

Their father wasn't shy about choosing Azula over both of them. And he wasn't shy about choosing Iroza over Zuko. It was a loud, obvious signal as to what qualities the man valued in his children.

For a long while, it seemed like that was as far as it would go. Emotional abuse.

Azula said as much, which was surprising.

Not that she would pick up on it, but that she would be so optimistic.

And it was optimism.

Zuko wasn't one for subtlety. Not now. Not yet. He hadn't figured it out, so he would have to learn. He would learn the hard way. He would go too far, step over some line without realizing, and that would be that.

Iroza said as much, and it wasn't surprising at all.

Pessimism came easier to him, after all.

And so he wasn't shocked when Zuko stepped out of line. The boy attended a strategy meeting and let his goodhearted naivety fly in the face of some faceless general. Sacrificing loyal fire nation troops was bad, he said. Super controversial. How dare he.

Iroza rolled his eyes in his mind.

He wasn't shocked when Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai as a result of that. Worried, sort of, but not shocked. Zuko was kind of asking for it, honestly. Trying to be a shounen protagonist in an environment like this? He was past-due for a reality check. He'd get knocked around a bit, embarrassed a lot, and with any luck it would be a good learning experience for the kid.

That didn't happen.

Of course it didn't happen.

Iroza stood in the crowd, next to his sister and his uncle, and watched. He watched as Zuko turned around, his quiet resolve immediately giving way to shock and horror. He watched as Zuko fell to his knees, apologizing and reaffirming his loyalty. Refusing to fight.

Tears in his eyes, he looked up at their father and begged for mercy.

When Ozai closed one hand around his son's top knot and gently cupped his face with the other, Iroza watched. The chamber was bathed in orange light, and he refused to so much as blink in the face of it. Zuko screamed, a sound he would never allow himself to forget, and Iroza forced himself to keep watching.

His brother's body went limp, bare skin smacking against the stone floor as their father cast him aside and walked away.

And his gaze remained on Zuko.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. The burn. The smell of charred flesh in the air. The way their father had scorched his face with so much cruelty. Intent. Precision. It was disgusting, of course. Morally abhorrent, and unforgivable. And just…

Fascinating.